


You Know I Love You

by fulltimereviewer



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulltimereviewer/pseuds/fulltimereviewer
Summary: "I never wanted to, I loved you. But, there was just so much pressure. I'm sorry. You know I love you. - Tyler"Everything had to be perfect for Tyler Stewart. But, people aren't perfect. People are messy. To what lengths will he go for the perfect life.High School AU
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

Heat blared down on the football field as twenty young men ran plays in layers of pads. A handful of players were sitting on the bench, sweating even more so from being stagnant. One of the motionless men watched on even more intensely than the others. His brown eyes flickered as he followed the snap of the ball to the quarterback to it being caught in the receiver’s hands. As he watched play after play, he wished that he was out there practicing instead of melting in the heat.

The young man looked at his bench mates. One was the asthmatic red-head whose father is a lawyer and he threatened to sue if he didn’t make the team. Another was the kicker; he only went in a few times per game so he was unneeded in scrimmaging. He would much rather be playing his guitar than practicing. The last was the odd new kid, who was new to public school, and was put on the team for numbers.

There he was the kid with the rich dad and all of the training. But, coach said he didn’t know his right from his left and that his four-year-old granddaughter could pitch it further than him. He never denied it. He knew that he was far from the best, but he could at least get a chance to play on the practice field if not the real field.

He scanned the green and saw who was playing. How much better could they be? 

The brown-eyed boy stared at the wide receiver, a juvenile delinquent. Sure, he was quick on his feet; that’s only because he used to eluding the police. His hands were swift; that’s only because he is used to the five-finger discount. He shouldn’t even be playing; he has violated the school’s athletic guidelines by being arrested. But, that was swept under the rug because his parents were cops. In fact, his father was the school police officer and he patrolled the games. His mom was always helping out with the PTA. His brothers were on the football team. His whole family was well known and liked, so he had to play.

He then looked at the left tackle. He was strong, but that’s only because the coach has been working with him one on one since freshman year. He was also big, but that’s just because he got good genes. But, he was never rough enough. Even always helped members of our team and the other team up when he knocks them down. It makes no sense how he is so damn nice. He really shouldn’t be playing every Friday night. He should be taking care of his fiancée who is a freshman in college and his daughter. But, whenever he isn’t playing he’s with them or helping out at his mom’s restaurant. He’s a nice guy so he had to play.

His eyes finally gazed upon the quarterback. He had a strong arm, but that from all the fist pumping he does at parties. His aim was great; but that his just from the beer pong he plays. All he did was party, on Mondays he always came to school with a hangover. He was a great leader though, people always flocked to him. He just had this charismatic personality and a contagious smile. His father was the football coach in the college the town over. His brothers were, twenty, thirteen, and seven; and the star quarterbacks of their respective leagues: college, middle school, and peanut. He was a part of a dynasty so he had to play.

The boy closed his eyes. He began to imagine if he was out there on the gridiron, giving his blood, sweat, and tears. He could feel the turf under his feet rumbling from the clash of helmets and bodies. He could feel his ears begin to ring from the cheers of the crowd and the cheerleaders. He could even feel each and every bump in the leather that was tightly pressed on the football. His arm even began to crane back and flick as if he was throwing the game winning pass. 

“Boy, quit day dreamin’ and take a shower. You smell worse than Owen’s jock strap!” Coach Hatchet hollered. The young man opened his eyes to a squint. But, the large coach was standing right in front of him blocking the sun. He nodded and jumped off of the bench. Quickly, he made his way to the field house were his team was. He opened the door, and was greeted with its signature odor of sweat, old tennis shoes, and fermented testosterone. 

All of the guys were changing out of their pads. Some just threw on shorts and a t-shirt and headed to their cars to take a shower at home. Others were stark nude and grabbing towels to take into the showers. The benchwarmer decided to go and take a shower.

There were only a few guys in the showers, but he never felt comfortable around other guys so he went to the last stall. The hot water pelted his skin, but he didn’t mind. He just rinsed the perspiration from his body and hair and jumped out. Wrapping the white towel around his lower half he made his way back into the locker room. 

No one was there but the left tackle and his buddy the wide receiver. The bench warmer ignored them and promptly got dressed. He was always dressed in the nicest and most expensive sportswear but, he had no real pride behind it. The boy slammed his locker and made his way out of the field house. The sun stung his eyes as he made his way to one of the benches by the field house.

This is where he always sat as he waited for his ride to pick him up. He normally would have driven home. But, since his sister broke his taillight he had no truck. The sweat began to build up underneath his arms again as he waited in the heat. His mom said she would pick him up after her appointment for her lip injections. But that should have been over with at least twenty minutes ago, and the office was only two miles down the road. His house on the other hand was on the other side of town.

He sighed. Suddenly, a car stopped in front of him. 

“Hey Tyler, Did you need a ride?” The left tackle, DJ, asked. Tyler looked up at DJ. Why was he offering him a ride? They hadn’t talked to each other since the eighth grade. But, DJ is a nice guy. He’s probably just doing this out of the goodness of his heart, he figured. The benchwarmer said yes and jumped into the passenger side of the SUV.

When he got into the car, he automatically began to take in his surroundings. There was a case for a nursery rhyme CD in the console, a pink sippy-cup in the cup holder, and a car seat in the car. Tyler pulled out his phone and sent his mom a quick text saying that he got a ride. For some reason riding in DJ’s car reminded him of his family going on a road trip. It was probably the items for a toddler, the clean R&B song that was playing, and the fact that this car was spotless other than a few cheerios in the backseat.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I have to pick up my daughter from day-care. It’s like ten minutes away and it’ll take a minute or two to get her.” DJ said while turning into a lower-middle class part of town. The benchwarmer looked at the houses they were passing. He had been in this part of town to drop of his sister at a friend’s house before. But, he wasn’t too familiar. 

The two sat in an awkward silence for awhile until DJ shared his plans for the weekend. Evidently it was his daughter’s first birthday party that weekend. His fiancé was inviting a bunch of her friends over, and he was doing the same. But, they were going to do the little cake and present deal first and then he and the guys were going to watch the game at the sports bar down the road. “Did you want to come?”

Tyler had never really been invited out with the first-string players. His dad has always told him to jump at opportunities so he did. He told DJ he would come to the party. Once benchwarmer accepted the invitation, they were at the day-care. The left-tackle quickly ran in to get his daughter. He was back in a minute or two later, DJ strapped the little girl in and got back to his place in the driver’s seat. “So, what’s it like being a dad?” Tyler asked as he looked at the toddler in the rearview mirror. That was the icebreaker for the rest of the conversation of Tyler asking DJ things about his daughter and fiancé. 

The less talented athlete learned that DJ’s fiancée, Katie, graduated last year, and she was now in fashion design school. They had an apartment together in the new apartment complexes that were built next to his old neighborhood. His little girl was named Adriana. Tyler looked back in the rearview mirror. Even though he really didn’t know Katie from anywhere other than the internet, this little girl looked exactly like her. “Cute kid.” Tyler meekly said.

The two talked about sports and other typical male things as DJ navigated through the town. They got closer to Tyler’s neighborhood. “So, are you ready for the game next Friday?” Tyler asked DJ hoping to get some information out before they reached his house. But, Tyler’s plan fell through. Before DJ could answer, he was right in front of the other young man’s house. They said their goodbyes. And, that was it. He got to talk to a starter.

* * *

He opened up his front door using the keypad that was built into the stone wall. The ornate glass door opened with a click. Tyler stepped into his home a shut the door with his foot. There was no one welcoming him home. Silence always plagued his home. He dropped his bag by the door. Tyler slinked to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. His eyes scanned it looking for something to fulfill his adolescent hunger. With the milk carton in his right hand and an applesauce cup in the other, he closed the appliance. 

Tyler made no attempt to grab a glass or spoon. He just drank the last corner of the milk, peeled back the applesauce lid, and basically drank it. He ran his hand across his mouth and then his pants out of habit. Leaving the two empty containers on the counter, he ran up the stairs to his room. 

His room was nothing too extraordinary. Yes, his bed, nightstand, dresser, and desk were all top of the line; his mother would have it no other way. His shoes squeaked against the wood floor. Tyler stopped short and peeled his shoes and socks off of his feet with his heels. Jumping on his bed seemed like a good idea, so he did. Tyler could have melted into his comforter. He was just that tired from his classes.

The college prep course that is what he was taking. But, in all honestly Tyler should only be in maybe one or two advanced classes. But, no his dad said that colleges looked at that stuff, and if he were to get an athletic scholarship he would need to be good both on and off of the field. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and the shut them. The light coming in from his blinds illuminated his room, making the burgundy walls seem as if they were glowing. In fact the whole room at an ethereal glow. 

This only made Tyler even sleepier. He began to drift in and out, and he finally went into a light sleep. In his pocket, a phone began to vibrate waking him up. An adolescent groan emerged from his throat. Being the slave to technology, he answered the phone. There was a text message, from Geoff. 

Geoff was the quarterback. The quarterback that threw infamous parties almost every day of the week. Geoff’s parties were like the ones in movies. His parents were always out of town, the best music was always playing, there was enough food, booze, and babes to make anyone think they were in heaven; or so he heard. Tyler had been invited to the parties before, but he never went. But, this was Geoff’s first party of the senior year. Tyler had to go, right?

Mr. and Mrs. Stewart couldn’t really say anything to their son for going out and staying out late. So he decided to go to the party. What he would do their, that’s another thing entirely. Tyler peeled himself from the bed once he heard the familiar click of the front door opening. When he was younger, that click would make run down the stairs to greet whoever was entering with a toothy smile. But now, he’ll just slink down the stairs to make sure no one was robbing the place.

Sock covered feet slowly but surely, worked down a flight of stairs. He jumped the last two, and stopped in front of his dad’s office. There was a low light coming from underneath the door. A slightly smoky smell was squeezing out also. Tyler raised his hand to knock on the door, because that is what he always does. That is what he has always done, knocked on his father’s door. He had no idea why he did it, was it because he taught to early, or was it just a habit?

Three knocks, their sound filled the home and echoed off of the walls. A faint hum of an Italian opera song could be heard through the door. Tyler started to patiently wait as he always did. His father’s almost silent steps got closer to the door. The older man stood on the other side, unlocking the many locks that closed him off from the world. Each snap of a lock made his heart beat harder. Tyler was always intimidated by his father. Any and everything the older man would strike some sort of fear into his heart. 

He took in a sharp breath in. Maybe the rush of oxygen would calm his nerves. Tyler always did that, but it never made a difference. The adrenaline would always surge through his body as electricity goes a power plant. As the door creaked open, the seventeen year-old began to feel like a small child again. Then, he was face to face with the aggressor, the intimidator, his father.

An average person wouldn’t find him to be very intimidating. Maybe a little displeasing the first time you met him, but not intimidating. Kurt Stewart was a strong man, a stern man. His eyes seemed to pierce your soul, but at the same time those wounds would heal with is wit. His voice commanded attention, and you listen to what he says whether it is harsh or kind, wrong or right. His personality pulled in people of all walks of life for all of the right and wrong reasons.

His only real fault would be his temper, especially in a drunken stupor. Kurt was not the one to infuriate. His temper was like a lit match that was dropped into a forest. It can be extinguished by a damp leaf falling from high in the trees’ canopy. The damp leaves were almost always Priscilla, Connie, or  _ Caro nome;  _ being his wife, daughter, and favorite opera song respectively. Tyler was one of those damp leaves when he was younger, but as he has gotten older and less successful it seems as if he has become something else.

His temper can also be a lit match that has grown from a pile of dry leaves. Lately, Tyler has been a pile of dry leaves to his father’s temper. Nothing he ever seems to do can satisfy his father anymore. After the match was lit, and wasn’t extinguished it could turn into a moderately sized fire. Once it was at this point not even damp leaves could smother these flames. The only thing that could be done is to stop alcohol from being incorporated into the mix. Once alcohol was added to the flames, it could become a raging forest fire. It was this heat that would melt someone’s skin, burn their bones, and cauterizes their organs. Once this blaze overcame his father, no one could put it out. Nature had to take its course. 

Kurt and Tyler’s eyes met as the door creaked open. The younger male’s heart felt as if it would stop any second. “Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to come in?” His father asked with a deep tone that was powerful enough to send vibrations through the teen’s chest, but was sprinkled with enough dry wit to make him comfortable.

Tyler stepped into his father’s office to feel the warm carpet beneath his bare feet. His hand still rested on the brass doorknob. The teenage boy was extremely careful to close the door as soundlessly as possible. He shuffled out of the doorway and into the larger portion of the office. Tyler was greeted with husky aroma of his father’s cigar. The smell was something that Tyler had to grow to love, it wasn’t unpleasant, but it was quite pleasant. His mother despised the scent, and sentenced Kurt to smoke in his office like a recluse. 

Smoke gracefully floated from his father’s lips as the older man exhaled. Tyler watched the smoke rise, and then disappear in the air. The young man’s eyes flickered towards the box of cigars that was open and seemed to be alluring him. Taking a leap of faith, Tyler sat in the identical easy chair that was separated from his father’s by a nightstand that was supporting the tempting tobacco treat. Kurt looked over to his son with a sly smile. 

“You want one?” Tyler’s heart soared as his father offered his first cigar to smoke solo. He wanted to leap from his chair and accept at the top of his lungs. That would be over the top, so Tyler decided to pull it back by just giving his father a quick nod. He looked over the different cigars. Double Claro to Oscuro, Parejo to Presidente there were so many options for him to choose from. His fingers lingered over a Colorado Maduro. The dark brown seemed to call his name, Tyler’s fingers seemed to be pulled to it like a magnet. But, his father quickly slapped his hands away.

Tyler snatched his hand back and watched his father with a mixture of fear and anticipation. His heart fluttered as Kurt picked up a cigar. The father rolled it in between his fingers and gave it a swift sniff. The older man let out a sigh. “Colorado Claro, very simple, very nice. Good for your first solo cigar.” He handed Tyler the cigar. Just as he had watched his father over the years, Tyler used the guillotine cutter on the cap of the cigar. He placed the cap in the ash tray, and grabbed the box of wooden matches. He struck the match. A clean flame rose at the tip of the match.

Remembering what his father always does, Tyler put the cigar in between his lips and raised the match to the end of the cigar. As he lit the free end of the cigar, he inhaled. A small amount of smoke rose from the bundle of tobacco signaling that it was heated and lit. He quickly shook the match extinguishing the flame. The rest of the process was natural, he inhaled. But, he did not let the smoke go into his mouth. The older teen just let it mingle in his mouth, and he let it out whenever he felt necessary.

Kurt looked at his son with pride, which was very rare. He had a smug smile on his face, and he patted his son on the back. Tyler exhaled and removed the cigar from his lips. “Dad, I just wanted you to know that I was going out tonight.” The father nodded, and grabbed a small white modern looking remote. He pointed it at the speaker system holding an mp3 player. Kurt skipped through songs until a Doris Day song began to play. He then lowered the volume on the blue-eyed golden girl’s voice until she was nothing but mere background noise.

“Son, I don’t care where you go, as long as you’re back before me.” The father said with his slight laugh. Tyler was taken aback by his father’s comment. But, he took another drag of the cigar just in case he would explain. 

But, he didn’t. So Tyler just assumed that his father was going out with one of his many mistresses. Don’t presume that Kurt Stewart doesn’t love his wife Priscilla. He does, very much so. But, he just likes using the young tight little things around his office. They keep his stress levels down. In fact, if he hadn’t been having extramarital affairs, Mr. Stewart would have probably had been slapping his son left and right. Hell, he would have been smacking is wife and daughter around too. These pretty young things keep him relaxed enough to just yell at Tyler about twice a week; and that’s just fine with Kurt.

Father and son just sat in the smoky room enjoying their nicotine getting slight buzzes and talking about various subjects: weekend plans, collegiate sports, and ideas for the extravagant birthday party that they would be hosting for Mrs. Stewart. Tyler looked at the clock on the adjacent wall. It was around seven-forty. Tyler removed the cigar from his mouth sat it on the ash tray, allowing it to burn out on its own. He stood up from the easy chair.

“What time are you going to be back at home dad?” Tyler asked as his feet sluggishly carried him across the room. He saw a pack of gum on his father’s desk, and he grabbed a piece for himself. He pulled the metallic paper covered confection out of its package. Artificially flavored mint gum sent ice cold jolts past the young man’s tongue, down his neck, and rushed out to his shoulders giving the same feeling of a winter’s breeze. He turned back to his father silently chewing. 

Mr. Stewart’s eyes were closed and his lips were folded in. His cigar was out of the security of his mouth, and was lying in the ashtray next to Tyler’s. To anyone who had never watched Kurt Stewart smoke would find this very strange. But, his son knew exactly what he was doing.

Just how a good wine taster will allow a wine to breath before spitting it out, Kurt was allowing his smoke to dance with grace inside of his mouth. He was savoring his last puff. His lips then formed an ‘o’ and he let the smoke slip out like a mistress into the night. The middle-aged man opened his eyes slowly. “Whenever I’m home.” He bluntly replied. 

Tyler managed a barely audible, “Okay.” The bonding moment between father and son had passed. So, Tyler did nothing but leave the study as quietly as the smoke escaped through the vents. 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obsession begins.

Fluorescent light usually washes out and drains any amount of attractiveness from a person. Not from Lindsay; or at least not in Tyler’s eyes. She was the pinnacle of beauty to him since he first laid eyes on her through the smoke and haze of marijuana and teen spirit at Geoff’s party last weekend. That had been Tyler’s first real house party that didn’t involve parents, or a birthday cake. If anyone else saw how he was ogling her, they surely would have thought he was undressing her with his eyes. They wouldn’t be correct, but they wouldn’t be completely false either.

He licked his lips as she crossed her bronzed legs. Lindsay’s head turned and her cerulean pools meet with the dark eyes that had been gazing at her curvaceous figure. His stare broke immediately with an indescribable lack of grace. She giggled. Tyler’s attention was back on the blonde bombshell after hearing her laughter that was beyond perfection to him. She was beyond perfection to him. Why she even paid him any attention was beyond his reasoning. 

Her motions seemed to run in slow-motion, worthy of the most clichéd dream sequence. His eyes followed each of them with the precision of a sniper. He wished he could transform into the drop of pink gloss on her index finger as she rubbed it upon her soft lips. His mind began to race back to how those lips felt last weekend. Even if they were cloaked in a thin layer of cheap beer and artificial cheese powder from chips they were Tyler’s heaven. Lindsay Cox was an angel, just for his salvation.

“Tyler, are you done staring at Miss Cox? Would you like to tell me who Malcolm Norris is?”

Mrs. O’Halleran had grown accustomed to Tyler’s stares and had quickly sign a hall pass on more than one occasion when he needed to excuse himself. She knew all too well how obsessive the boy could become. He even found her real social media profile-- even when using her “Blainely” codename to hide herself from students’ prying eyes. 

He was completely silent, feeling a mixture of shame and thrill? 

“I didn’t think so. Pay attention-- in fact switch seats with Courtney,” Mrs. O’Halleran said. 

Courtney started to protest, but opted for a heavy sigh and tripping Tyler up in the transition. He stumbled but did not fall against the scuffed brown and white linoleum. She stifled a laugh. Her lover gave a wink of approval. The class president, Canadian Youth Symphony concertmaster and self-proclaimed “Next Sonia Sotomayor” had more edge now that she had been letting the school delinquent cover her neck in red and purple. 

Tyler sat at the front of the class, jacket in his lap and arms freezing. The teacher continued her lesson on  Métis History. His mind began to race back to the past weekend. He could feel the pulse of the music in the arches of his feet. He could smell the sweet funk intertwining with stale beer-- and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He remembered how soft her body felt against him, and all the blood began to rush. 

The bell rang in a cacophony of sound startling him, and returning all the blood to his brain. He ran out of class, with more speed than he could’ve imagined. 

“If he ran like that more often, Coach H might actually play him,” Duncan murmured. Courtney laughed. 

“In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Tyler repeated this mantra over and over again. His feet took him all the way to the field house-- which he promptly hid behind. His palms were wet, hot and cold all at the same time. Lindsay Cox danced through his mind. 

He saw glowing skin in the sunshine beaming down. The gravel beneath him seemed to be in the form of her silhouette. Even the ping of his text tone sounded like her laugh. Tyler scrambled to pull his phone from his pocket, as if the notification would disappear. 

_ U ok? I hoped I could eat lunch with u cutie ;-) Linds _

He thought that his heart would explode out of his chest. U ok? Eat lunch? Cutie? Winky face Linds? His mind ran every single possibility. Maybe she meant this for Trent, Trent and Tyler are super close. And everyone knows that they hooked up when they were camp counselors at their church camp this past summer. Or, maybe it’s some kind of joke by the guys on the team-- they finally began to pay him some attention, it could be some sort of hazing? But, Linds-- that’s the intimacy and closeness he craved. 

“What the fuck do you say Tyler?” He typed several responses-- not one quite right. Too creepy, too aloof, too horny. 

_ Sorry-- forgot my lunch in the field house. I can meet u in the caf, cutie. ;-) _

Their high school had its hierarchy, social cliques and classes not unlike any other high school in Canada or the States. The popular, rich or generally well-liked kids lived in a bubble not visibly showing any of the unwanted effects of adolescence. There was a bell curve of regular, unassuming kids in the middle. And, then on the margins you have your weirdos, geeks and run of the mill nerds. Tyler liked to think that he was above the fray-- but he really lived in the middle, unnoticed. 

He analyzed every conversation being had at the table. Geoff and DJ were talking about some rapper who dropped an album in the dead of night. Duncan was trying to whisper into his cellphone over the rambunctious lunchroom-- all that could be made out was abuelita and recital. Lindsay and crew of assorted cheerleaders and dance team members listened with doglike obedience to the dance captain’s story. 

She stopped when she noticed Tyler paying too much attention to then. “Lindsay’s new boy, why do you think you’re a part of this conversation.” 

Tyler stuttered, becoming even more frustrated for letting himself be found out for the third time today. His face was hot. 

“Wait, you’re Connie’s brother aren’t you?” Heather asked, rhetorically because she knew the answer. Tyler’s older sister and Heather had their fair share of run-ins as Heather wanted to usurp Connie as queen bee. 

“Boy Connie, Lindsay has been talking you up since she posted those pics of you two at Geoff’s party this past weekend.” Heather pulled up Lindsay’s incognito Photobomb account-- a fauxbomb. Tyler’s eyes were wide. It was an overexposed flash photo of Tyler’s head approaching her glitter covered cleavage. Nacho cheese dust was at the corners of both of their mouths. 

“How cute is it Ty?” Lindsay had the most earnest expression across her face. Tyler laughed and agreed a little but deep down he wanted to vomit. He was embarrassed-- disgusted that he couldn’t even remember the photo. 

“But, it’s so weird. We couldn’t find your account to tag you.” Heather added, a mischievous glint in her eyes. It’s obvious how she’s ruled over the dance team with legitimacy, co-option and repression. 

“Yeah, Ty. We searched but couldn’t find you. Do you not have a Photobomb account?” Lindsay asked reaching for Tyler’s phone to download the app that ran their high school. 

Heather’s eyes flashed again, “Yeah, you don’t have any kind of social media Boy Connie. What are you one of those creepy troll stalkers?” 

Tyler’s chest began to constrict. He just gained all of this social capital. He couldn’t lose it all to Heather on his first day at the lunch table. 

“Heather, leave him alone. He’s cool just private maybe. Right Tyler?” DJ broke away from his overloaded lunch tray to come to the rescue. Geoff nodded in agreement as mustard and ketchup ran down his chin. Duncan furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes at the entire situation, maybe some of Courtney was rubbing off on him as well. 

“Yeah, I’m just not into all of social media like that,” Tyler meekly added. He dug his toes into the soles of his shoes and cursed himself for looking weak in front of his new friends. Why couldn’t he just put Heather in her place. Connie did it all the time. DJ just did it in less than twenty words. And, Geoff didn’t even have to say anything. 

Heather smirked and returned to her duties of maintaining social order. Tyler knew he would have to win her over. 

* * *

Tyler rushed home in his typical routine. The sky had grown dark, so his room no longer held its ethereal afternoon glow. Whirs from the coffee machine traveled upstairs as it heated the water. It would be a long night. He powered his laptop scoffing at his desktop background, a woman on the beach in a skimpy red bikini. Her long blonde hair was wet at the ends and clung to her shoulders. Her wedding ring and band twinkled in the sunbeam shooting down. A man was clearly once a part of the photo but Tyler cropped him out for obvious reasons. 

But, the most ominous detail from the wallpaper lay in the sand. Written in the wet sand and surrounded by a heart: The new Mrs. O’Halleran. 

Tyler made a figure eight on the screen with his middle and index fingers, across Mrs. O’Halleran’s hourglass figure, then kissed the fingers. 

He pulled up the Photobomb website, and muttered under his breath. “I won’t make that mistake again.”


	3. Chapter 3

You Know I Love You -- Part 3

Tyler had quickly gained a following on Photobomb. His account was meticulously populated with photos of every sunrise from his morning workout and an inspirational quote from a sports legend; the occasional gym selfie that totes the line between try-hard and thirst trap; but what really made him the most popular guy on social media was the couple posts with Lindsay. They took the best mirror selfies together-- he bought her whatever she wanted. Tons of pictures from the Stewarts’ trip to the mountains to Lindsay’s entire bedroom covered in pink rose petals, pink confetti balloons, just because; and every underclassman girl and a few of the guys were following @ty_soup.

Everything was planned out to the smallest detail-- including his handle which was clever, but not too clever, plus @tyler_stewart was already taken. He had laid the foundation for a life that everyone should want, really need to have. 

“Shit,” he stubbed his foot against the bed frame as he kicked the actual shirt he slept in underneath. It was time for the morning flex. Engage the triceps, lift the elbow, place the phone just at the right angle, smile and click. “Not perfect, fuck.”

Tyler moved the photo to the folder in his phone labeled, improvements, holding several hundred. Then, he opened the folder labeled red-shorts, and pulled one of the mirror images located there. He had back ups to back ups, everything was planned to the styled bed head and still slightly sleepy eye. 

A text popped up on his screen.

_ morning tyty, my parents are so excited 2 have dinner with us tonite. _

Tyler smiled. He finally had a real opportunity to be with the Coxes. Sure, he had met them before. But, there was no real moment to look into Mr. and Mrs. Cox’s eyes and tell them that they had the perfect suitor for their daughter. That he would much rather die, than disappoint her. 

Die, dye, Tyler thought— Lindsay needs to touch-up her roots, the brunette was beginning to show. And blondes are more fun. 

* * *

“Get you head in the damn game, Stewart!” Coach Hatchet broke Tyler out of his constant haze. Sun beaming down, like a spotlight. He was finally a player on the gridiron stage, at least in practice. 

Duncan laughed, “I don’t know if this is more punishment for me or you.” Tyler stared him down, appearing to be an attempt at intimidating, but really he couldn’t look anywhere else because the sun was in his eyes. 

“You really are going to gas yourself out, trying to outrun me chicken-noodle,” Duncan wiped the sweat from his brow and removed the thin tank top. He revealed a spattering of finished and unfinished tattoos: dame notte in script, a menacing skull with flames for eye sockets, the beginning of a Psalm, and just the letter C.

Tyler imagined himself being that menacing for a moment. Tattooed, built, stubble on his jaw, and a half shaved head— not scared of anything, and everyone scared of him. 

He had to try and break Duncan down. That’s what guys did, right? Trash talk. All of the fun insults about mothers, sisters, girlfriends and dick sizes. Duncan’s mom was a hot cop, but that’s easy. No sisters. Tyler was too uncomfortable with his own body to even bring up Duncan’s genitals. 

“I didn’t seem to gas myself out with Courtney last night,” Tyler rattled back, each word carefully placed in the insult. 

Duncan’s brow knit immediately and he dropped out of his route stance. “What the fuck did you say?”

Tyler laughed to soften the sting. But, Duncan continued to decrease the space between them. People are only this close in fits of passion: ecstasy and rage. Duncan was enraged. 

It would’ve been fitting for dark clouds to roll in and practice would be rained out, for the fire alarm to sound throughout campus to send everyone home, or for aliens to drop to the sky to create enough of a distraction. 

But, no. Tyler was face to face with a man scorned. A very menacing man scorned. 

“Don’t ever fucking let her name leave your mouth again. She’s a princess.” Duncan pushed Tyler down in one swift motion and stood over him. “Get the fuck up, go sit on the goddamn bench and say you have a cramp— now.”

Under any other circumstance, Tyler would’ve found an unironic use of the pet name, princess, funny. But, he finally understood that he didn’t read Duncan correctly. And was beginning to beat himself up for not taking the nonexistent sister route. 

But, Tyler had disrupted the social order for the day. He had severely misunderstood the dynamic between the delinquent and his princess. He didn’t get why Duncan got so upset about simple smack-talk.

It wasn’t that Duncan viewed Courtney as conquest. It was that he revered her like a knight in duty to his princess. He spent the day in campus suspension for punching the new kid, Alejandro, for staring at her too long. 

Everyone stares at Lindsay all the time, students, teachers, everyone--- and Tyler could never do a thing. He wouldn’t ever do anything. He heard the whispers from strangers and even his new friends. He knew that he couldn’t keep her forever. But, he knew it would milk it for every bit of potential. 

* * *

“More milk, Tyler?” Mrs. Cox asked out of courtesy, but filled the glass before he could say anything. The Coxes were the type of family that drank milk with dinner. Their dinner table was always set-- chargers, linen, silverware holders-- the whole nine yards. The rest of their home was just as manicured. Every item was hand-selected by this exclusive designer that Tyler’s mother has been trying to commission for at least eight years. The Coxes were rich; but Mr. Cox grew up poor so he never was flashy with their money. Everything was tasteful. 

“Taste is everything,” that’s how Mr. Cox ended every single Cox Jewelers and Fineries commercial. Paul Cox was a self-made man. He started off working in the jewelry store straight out of high school. Thirty years and several profitable acquisitions and mergers later, Cox Jewelers and Fineries was the largest family-owned luxuries franchise in the country. 

“So Tyler, what do you plan to make of yourself? Working for dad?” Mr. Cox made the simplest of questions sound like an inquisition. He had a big presence that took over the room. The light from the crystal chandelier was in competition with the rings on his pinky and ring fingers and tennis bracelets dangling from his wrists. He cracked his tanned knuckles, making himself even more menacing. 

Tyler’s test began to tighten again as he remembered the altercation with Duncan. Focus, focus, focus he told himself. He laughed to lighten the mood. 

Lindsay joined in with sympathetic laughter, “Daddy, Tyler wants to do sports marketing. Like--”

“So is that true Tyler? Well market yourself to me right now,” Mr. Cox tested, “because we have a great marketing team over at Cox Jewelers and Fineries. The number one--” 

“That’s enough business talk for now,” Mrs. Cox finally interjected. Tyler looked in her eyes for the first time since meeting her at the door. Lindsay was a carbon copy of her mother. All of the Cox girls were. In the eighth grade, all of the boys made a list of ten most fuckable moms. All ten spots were filled with “Mrs. Cox.” Originally the top nine names were Mrs. Cox with number ten being Mrs. De Luca, but Duncan held a kid’s head in the toilet until that was fixed. Tyler finally learned the name of the hottest mom in town-- Lana Cox. He stared at her forehead as she talked, so his eyes couldn’t wander where they wanted. She poured out of the blouse she was constantly adjusting. The second button from top was literally hanging on by a thread-- just like Tyler’s self-control. 

Because he wasn’t paying attention, Tyler missed that Mrs. Cox was actually an accomplished realtor in the tri-city area. He just assumed that she did the same thing as his mother, which was next to nothing in his eyes. 

Lana swept her bangs behind her ear, cutting a slice of the store-bought apple crumb pie that Tyler’s mother insisted that he take with him, and then serving it to her husband. 

“Tyler sweetie, it was so kind of you all to take our chipmunk to the mountains. We could never go, my allergies are so awful. All the pollen, and bugs, and heat. So glad, Lindsay’s first time was so nice,” her mother’s face was so earnest, it was like looking into what Tyler’s future could be. 

“Hardly her first time,” the youngest Cox sibling said under her breath while cutting too large a slice. Only Tyler and Lindsay heard. The freshman looked up from her plate and smirked at how frazzled Tyler was. 

Blood rushed up to his cheeks. He felt the sweat between his toes, reminding himself of how insecure he was. Lindsay wasn’t embarrassed that her sister made the joke, more embarrassed that Tyler had to hear it. 

“Yeah. Um, yes! Yes ma’am-- my mom liked having Lindsay there with us. And, I mean I enjoyed her being there too. But, not like that just like um-- it was fun to have her on the trip with us, the whole family, all the Stewarts,” Tyler felt like the never used words before. He kicked himself, how did he let everyone rattle him so much. All the Coxes got under his skin. He wanted to jump out of it. 

The youngest Cox had sown enough discord for the night, and excused herself and her massive slice of pie to her room to go make a Fly-By dance video in her room. The bug-eyed terrier followed behind licking up every crumb she dropped. 

Mrs. Cox smiled out of sympathy this time. The room was awkwardly charged and not in the dinner guest’s favor. “Well, you kids don’t want to eat dessert with two old farts do you? We’re probably going to watch the newest episode of The McClean Show if you want to join,” said Mr. Cox attempting to extend an olive branch. 

“Oh, no honey, I think that Lindsay has plans with her friends right. Going to go cheer up that sweet Devon-James, right chipmunk? Oh it’s a shame what happened to that sweet boy. Tell him he needs to come over for dinner soon. Don’t you remember when you two were little in gymnas--” Mrs. Cox’s voice lowered as she realized that she had said something she shouldn’t. 

Lindsay stared her mother down, being the victim of the Cox curse of letting the cat out of the bag. 

Tyler had become a part of the group because he was dating Lindsay. But, he was far from being a part of the inner circle. He wasn’t privy to the information that kept everyone up at night, or their personal tragedies. If he had, he would’ve known that DJ and Katie called things off, and that Katie’s daughter wasn’t his. And, he would’ve known that football star Lightening Jackson was the father. And, he would’ve known that the group was going to Swirlie’s to get DJ’s favorite frozen yogurt to try and make him feel better. And he would’ve known that even though Frosty’s was far superior to Swirlie’s-- Swirlie’s was DJ’s favorite because of the vegan selection and toppings. 

Tyler wanted to take the pie cutter to cut the tension in the air and then his own throat. He cleared it instead, “Excuse me where’s the restaurant, I mean, restroom?” 

* * *

The drive to Swirlie’s was long. At least it felt long. At each red light or stop sign, Tyler imagined what Lindsay’s parents were saying about him as they cleaned up the dinner. Her father probably said things like: I don’t get what she sees in this one, that kid is afraid of his own shadow and he oughta realize how lucky he is to have our chipmunk. 

Her mother probably said things like: I like the boy that plays the guitar at church so much more, who cares that they got into a little trouble this summer, and did you see the way that he was staring at me? And the truth was that they said all of those things, and more. 

Tyler was desperately keeping his lips closed, trying to stop the urge to invite himself to Swirlie’s even as it was apparent that Lindsay couldn’t say no to him. 

Lindsay tried to tell Tyler that dinner wasn’t too bad. When in reality it was a disaster from the first course. Her mom made chicken because Lindsay forgot to tell her mom about Tyler’s allergy.

She told the truth in her group text as she typed feverishly, and responded to each ping and emoticon. Her face lit up, not just from the phone’s blue light, but it was the first time that she had earnestly smiled all night. 

Then he thought about the smirk on her little sister’s face. Tyler felt even smaller. 

Lindsay was still paying attention to her phone, now watching her sister’s Fly-By video. The mega-mixed pop song clashed with whatever came up in Tyler’s work-out mix that he liked to drive to. He saw the bright blue Swirlie’s sign approaching-- the penguin mascot mocking him. 

Tyler felt small. He was almost angry. But more than anything, he wanted to feel big again. He pulled into the parking lot for Swirlie’s. 

The group’s figures could be made out in the distance. Duncan was covered in a cloud of vape smoke, and Courtney was yelling about the health consequences and how she hated the sickly sweet smell. Through the glass, Heather looked to be consoling DJ the best she could by listing all the things she could legally and illegally have done to Katie. Geoff was eating the toppings and then kissed a blonde girl wearing a Swirlie’s t-shirt. Who the hell was she? And why could she be there, Tyler thought. 

The car was silent for a beat. 

“Tyler, I’m sorry about my sister earlier,” Lindsay tried to laugh to lighten the mood, “she can be a mean girl sometimes.” 

He kept staring at the group. 

Usually, Tyler would look at Lindsay and any negative feelings would melt away. But the blue eyes and baby voice wouldn’t work tonight, they just reminded him of the one piece of her he didn’t have. 

“It’s not mean if it’s the truth,” Tyler looked at Lindsay for the first time since the dinner table. His voice trembled a little. He bit the inside of his lip. 

Lindsay tucked her hair behind her ears and accidentally pulled a few strands through her bubblegum glossed lips. Usually Tyler would pine to be the gloss on those lips. But, tonight they reminded him of the guy who had felt them everywhere. The guy that wasn’t him. 

“Ty, you shouldn’t let her get to you,” Lindsay unbuckled her seatbelt and reached down to grab her bag, it wasn’t the one that Tyler had bought her-- it was an even newer and more expensive one from her father. 

Tyler gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. And Lindsay’s phone began to ping again. They were probably asking where she was. He wanted to make her feel smaller. His finger hovered over the car’s child lock. 

“So, he’s the reason that we haven’t hooked up yet,” Tyler stared at the condensation building on the windshield, anywhere but at his girlfriend. 

Lindsay tried to lighten the mood, “Ty, no. We’re getting to know each other without doing that. And I know lots of people that haven’t done that like Courtney and Dun--” She stopped herself from saying even more than she should. 

Tyler still wouldn’t look at her.

“Tyler, it just seems like you had a bad day,” she opened the car door and stepped out. She leaned over before closing the door, her hair shrouded her like sunbeams at night. “How about we talk tomorrow when the grumpies are gone?” 

He gave a half-hearted smile. She smiled back and blew a kiss before closing the door. 

Tyler watched as she joined the group. They welcomed her with hugs and laughs. She fit in so naturally. She made everyone lighter. She obviously didn’t feel any smaller. It was as if she took up even more room; like light, exposing and filling every crack and shadow. 

He looked down into the cupholder and pulled out one of his sister’s hair ties. He pulled his hair into a small low bun. He pulled the mirror down. His face was pale now, the embarrassment had left his cheeks. Tyler tensed his jaw. He grabbed a hoodie from the backseat and pulled it on. 

  
  


He pressed the child lock button. He grabbed his phone and sent a text. 

_ meet me at the frosty’s closest to your house. need you to make me feel good.  _

Now, he had something to prove. Now, he wanted to make himself feel big. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> some edits have been made since this was first published on another site.   
> thank you for reading xx   
> let me know what you think xx  
> ~fulltimereviewer


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